Snapshots and Short Plots
by Gyroscope
Summary: Just several short stories involving any character/s from Storm Hawks. Mostly fun.
1. A Discovery

**A DISCOVERY**

"Technology is fun!" Junko shouted from under the mountainous pile of scrappy gear. "I mean, look at this stuff! I know its about centuries old, but it works."

"Yeah, I for once have to agree," said Stork who dreamily leaned against the waste pile, thinking of the beautiful Condor soaring through the skies, yearning the golden light of the horizon, its metal finesse rippling from the evanescent kiss of clouds and the sweet caress of wind. Oh yes, the Condor was a beauty, where every engineering pioneer would smother her blueprints with compassionate approval and the mere tease of her curved chassis beneath a velvet cloth would arouse...

"Stork! Look at this beauty!" Junko's enthusiastic puncture through the pile ruptured the pyramidal structure of the scraps, where flimsy metal pieces exploded around the Wallop like metallic fireworks. Clasped within his fingers was a curious spherical object, where wild wires flailed freely and the lens was trickled with feint cracks.

"Huh," Stork replied mildly, as he sat on his sore bottom. He had fallen from Junko's sudden outburst, and the Merb was not in the mood for forgiveness.

"It's a webcam! We can, oh I don't know, make home made videos at... home! Or video blog about our day daily! We can attach it to a crystal powered screen to watch playback and more stuff!"

"Oh yes, and discombobulate the internal communications data mainframe, send paroxysmal distortions to the crystal generators, which would, with high possibility, catalyse diaphragmatic aberrations of the power channels, unstablise energy distribution to the engines, where we would thus plunge into the Wastelands from insufficient lift and swiftly conclude out lives, with the brief light of impending doom being our final thoughts before death." Stork quickly contemplated in one breath, still sitting upon his very sore bottom and an index finger held up to highlight the possible untimely outcome.

"Oh come on Stork, it's just a camera. Nothing bad is going to happen to it." Junko pleaded, unsure of Stork's doubt over the piece of tech.

"Nothing to it, yes that is true. But did you think about what would happen to us? If, and I hypothetically state thus, we were to operate this camera as you innocently call it, what would the consequences be? I know for sure my prediction is certain and there are plenty more I can conjure. Oh yes, the consequences are quite... interesting," the Merb replied darkly as he stood up, rubbing his sore bottom.

Junko laughed at Stork's usual temperament. "Stork, why don't we stop guessing and actually put this thing into action. We'll see how it would function and I will put safety measures around it just for you."

"Um yeah. At your own risk." the Merb muttered.

"Cool! I mean, how dangerous can it be?" Junko cheerfully replied as he waded out of the scrap pile.

"Gah! Don't say that Junko!" Stork shrieked.

* * *

_AN: Well I am back. I won't be updating the other multi- chapter stories since I haven't the time to focus on them. Nevertheless, short bursts of my presence will grace your eyes here and there. This random combination of short stories would be updated from time to time, since I have plenty written up, waiting to be published! Just as another note, all these stories occur parallel to one another; i.e. they occur at a similar period of time. Therefore, a character will not appear twice in this entire collection. _

_Well sit back and enjoy, I guess. _


	2. Coffee and Cake

**Coffee and Cake**

Conversation was something the Dark Ace rarely encountered as he sipped his coffee rather peacefully at the Wayside. Seated alone in the cafe's dark corner, he curiously peered at the swirling steam patterns that rose from his cup. It amused him as he blew into coffee and new grey wisps were conjured. A slender being was seemingly conjured by enigmatic forces as she hastily sat down opposite the Dark Ace. She had brought a plate of cake. A bribe perhaps?

"Leave." It was not a question but an order demanded by the one and only Greatest Cyclonian Talon Commander. However, she just sat there with her hands still firmly holding the plate of cake and her crimson locks rustling from the shake of her head.

Defying the Dark Ace was either a show of bravery or the absolute foolishness of ones heart. He decided it was the former for this lady, whose peering eyes never strayed from his. He quickly noted their emerald beauty and how brilliant they were with her slim, innocent face. Averting his gaze only for his coffee, the Dark Ace shifted in his seat to lean closer to her.

"Leave," he growled dangerously. He disliked conversation as hefty as present and swore to himself that no other word should be spoken. The woman smiled quite sweetly in reply, yet her hands were still clutching the cake's plate. She raised her shoulders slightly, and the softest ruffle of her elegant, crimson dress distracted the Dark Ace from her constant gaze. Yes, it was quite a beautiful dress, and did justice for her curves...

Sipping his coffee again, he leaned back and return his gaze into her eyes. The sudden scrape of plate against laminate forced his eyes down again as the cake approched closer and threatened to unbalance off the table's edge; only she held it with the same firm grip with slender arms outstretched. It was almost tempting to reach out for the cake and briefly, casually and accidentally brush his fingers on her wrist and...

His arm was already reaching out subconsciously, for the cake (yes, and only the cake), but he immediately stopped, his hand hovering above the sugary icing and bright crimson strawberry. The Dark Ace would tell no one, but on one particular Valentines' Day, he received strawberries from the Master herself, and they instantly became his favourite fruit. Without hesitation, he picked the berry and popped it cheerfully in his mouth. She smiled again, the same sweet curve of her lips, but he downed the last drop of his coffee and left before she could ask his name and before he could do something very irresponsible.

With the tinkle of the doorbell and the roar of the Dark Ace's skimmer's engine, the woman scurried into the bathroom. She shook off the wig and removed the balloons stuffed in her dress. Washing off the make up, a familiar face of shorter crimson locks, emerald eyes and boyish looks emerged from the disguise.

Aerrow mentally noted that the Dark Ace had a weakness for strawberries and redheads as he smiled at his successful reconnaissance.

* * *

_A/N: I'm certain you saw this one coming, but I couldn't help myself. Sorry. I don't ship Aerrow x Dark Ace, but the idea of Aerrow resorting to extreme means to exploit the Dark Ace amused me. Also amusing myself - the fact that the Dark Ace fell for it. I'm sure Aerrow won't let go of it in their next duel. _


	3. Cyclonia Falls

**CYCLONIA FALLS**

"Unbelievable," she remarked rather tamely in spite of the dire situation. Her fingers drew greasy streaks as the marble floor sloped towards the Wastelands, plunging her crystals into the crimson depths. It almost took her too, but the Master herself clung stubbornly to the preferable outcome of living. She dared a glance over her shoulder but her silly spiked collar was impractical in providing a clear view of her possible grave. Of course her attire flailed uselessly once more, wrapping a certain amount of purple silk around her eyes.

"Absolutely unbelievable." she grunted in her efforts of pulling herself blindly towards the door, conveniently situated on the other side of the room. She relied on her hearing as a vague guidance as to current circumstances, but the helpless screams of Talons were none other than a plain nuisance towards her survival plan. Which she absolutely did not have.

A sudden scuttle of feet, an embarrassing feminine squeal and its gradual fade of pitch was the closest calling of death for her as a nearby Talon flew into the gaping mouth of the Wastelands. The word "expendable" popped happily in her mind, but a jolt shook and rumbled underneath, and the increasing gradient allowed the catastrophic slip of Cyclonis.

"Oh no you don't!" she yelled, her fingers merely snatching the edge of the marble floor. She admired the view beneath her dangling feet this time, as the cloak had intelligently billowed behind her, clearing her vision. Cyclonis appreciated the thick spires that seemingly loomed closer, bubbling lava gurgling pleasantly at her circumstance and those friendly beasts waiting to dine tonight on her spectacular ribs.

Her arms were never meant for chin ups, nor were they for clinging on helplessly upon ones tower's edge, carrying ones weight and delaying ones untimely demise. The eternal struggle (as it seemed to Cyclonis) of stressing every sinew of her arm muscles was horrific. She bit her lip, holding back tears of failure, and of pain. Pain of losing to the Atmos, pain of losing her entire bloodline's legacy, pain of losing to the wretched Storm Hawks, and the pain of losing her grip, falling, with no one to catch her and tell her everything would be okay.

She was still a child. Cyclonis had grew up too soon. And now she would die too soon.

The floor jerked again, screeching painfully as the metal foundations collided, snapped and spun lazily into the depths. Her fingers slipped, and with one final shriek, Cyclonis fell.

Before ones death, an epiphany would brighten their thoughts, almost like a light, and one would utter wise final words, hoping their syllables would resound throughout history. Yet these syllables can echo back from ones past to their future, guiding a soul to satisfactory peace and rest. But Cyclonian blood ran through her veins, and her grandmother's final words reverberated in her skull.

"Adorn the purple cloak and bear the Cyclonian name!" Cyclonis yelled remembering the words, "Robes of power and royalty billow in our reign!"

Billow.

Cloak.

Oh yes, she was a genius, if she could say so herself. The young empress stretched out her arms, ripped the flailing cloak from her back and held the corners in her hands. The rush of wind upon her face suddenly tamed as she floated quite daintily into a heap of her crystals. She spied familiar Talons sprawled in uncomfortable positions that yoga masters could not comprehend and sighed contently. She was alive and those Talons remained a reminder of such.

Grabbing several Levitation Crystals, Cyclonis could not wait to tell the Dark Ace about her adventures.

* * *

_A/N: I guess this will be the only one character short story. I tried to be symbolic where, despite all her efforts, Cyclonis will only bring destruction and death around her. Oh yes, and the fact that she is a lonely girl. _


	4. Psychedelic And Delicate

**Psychedelic And Delicate**

* * *

The portrait of her fine beauty sat peacefully next to his family photo, where she smiled as much as her lips could turn without baring teeth. Her eyelids were caught in the momentary flirtatious flicker, with her emerald orbs peeking from underneath. Framed by a silver border, with a particularly nice engraving of a banana upon the bottom corner, Radarr picked up the picture in his blue paws, feeling the warm flutter of love in his heart. Returning it on the table, he undid his bowtie and called upon his wife.

"Darling, I'm home!"

His voice called upon the loud scuttling of his pet and with the friendly flurry of its red hair, Aerrow embraced his owner. A beautiful hen clucked behind, her wings outstretched for the tender touch of her husband's furry arms. Giving a small peck on his cheek, she headed back towards the kitchen where she sang "Dinner is ready my love!"

As plates of steaming food set upon the tablecloth, Aerrow hopped on his seat where he obediently waited for his special dish. Radarr had trained him well enough, and was welcomed at the table for all mealtimes. His pet had a fondness for food that was piping hot, which Radarr believed was relatively odd to his heartwarming banana dishes. His wife had taken up a diet of wholegrains and bread, but Radarr dared not to mention her ever growing stomach.

After dinner, they sat upon the sofa, watching the daily news of Atmos. Aerrow's head would lay on Radarr's lap, where his blue paws would pat the fiery crimson tufts. Aerrow would coo every so often at the comfortable contact and snuggle closer to the touch.

It was just another ordinary day. A splendid evening, where sleep followed with Aerrow resting at the foot of the bed, and where Radarr would sneak down at midnight for his guilty snack of banana split and chocolate sauce. Quite expected and very ordinary.

...

"Well, not exactly," the hen retorted, "I've got some rather pressing news I would like to announce."

_Then announce it my friend, as we verily tire from boring tales of ones daily routine. It is of certain belief readers dislike a story without a flash of action, a quip of romance and a touch of comedy. Your life has proceeded with none of such highlighting qualities, and if you do not speak post- haste, we shall bid farewell._

"Tut, tut. Have authors become so rude as to merely recounting and recording the fine tales of life? That one might even dare to dispose and oft reject the highlighting factors that arise from the climax of a story? Just stay put, rewind a tad, quit your assumptions and let me tell the story. Hand me the pen and paper, and I shall continue."

_Oh! And it would seem the pot is calling the kettle black. You are a rude piece of untamed, raw poultry and I decline to hand over my writing equipment._

"Then I will use a feather of mine as a quill, the blood pooling from your body as ink and these walls as the canvas to my story."

_Blood from my body? I will never giv-_

"It is done," the hen spoke triumphantly, with a mysterious blade snugly in the author's back, thickly coated with the crimson. She plucked a feather, dipped it gently into the blood and began to scrawl upon the white walls.

...

As the previous author wrote, my beloved husband and pet sat adjacent to me, where we watched the news of the day. Aerrow cooed at the gentle pats from Radarr, and I had to giggle underneath a wing as to stifle the noise. I could not disturb Radarr's intense glare at the screen, where his ears were pricked up at the report of the passing of a great banana entrepreneur. I had to tap his shoulder thrice before he turned towards me and the warmth of my belly encouraged the words to spill.

"I have realised my stomach grows, yet you have not said a word my dear," I solemnly said. Aerrow had risen from his relaxed position and held his emerald gaze. Radarr did otherwise as he gulped, turned and immediately found a sudden interest in our carpet.

"Aerrow," Aerrow cooed in agreement, and nudged his head into Radarr's arm. Our pet had learnt to only speak his name, as Radarr rightfully trained him.

"I did not know what to say without offending you. You were on a diet and I couldn't-"

"No, or else I would have kicked a wall down," I replied calmly. "But hear me now. I think I'm pregnant."

If Aerrow's adorable eyes were big, than Radarr's were larger. "Uh, congratulations- yeah," he replied with nervous enthusiasm.

"Congratulations?! What about a "Yes, I'm going to be a father!" or something similar? Oh rooster teeth, you don't care, but- I THINK ITS COMING RADARR!"

Aerrow quickly sprung into action, and pressed a teleportation crystal in my stunned husband's hand. Our pet yelled a determined "Aerrow!" and we found ourselves in a white hospital room. I was in a comfortable bed, but it was futile in soothing the contractions. It felt as if bolts of lightning jolted my stomach, stitching threads of scorching anguish and pain into every sinew and every muscle of my body. My throat was already sore from my shrieking clucks as nurses were blurry wisps running around my bed, shouting and attempting to calm me down.

Then finally, after the whirlwind of pain and pushing, I gave birth to my first egg. Skipping the necessary incubation, a claw pushed eagerly through the furry shell, then an arm, then the whole blue feathery baby climbed from its fragile beginnings. It clucked in my arms as I held him, and my husband watched from beside my bed. Aerrow gave a cheer and patted my shoulder.

"He has your eyes Radarr," I whispered.

"And your feathers," he replied.

Aerrow held the teleportation crystal in his hand once again, gave the shout of "Aerrow!" as we headed home.

Only it was not home.

Instead of the flowery wallpaper, fluffy carpet and the comfortable lingering scent of bananas, we found ourselves in a room of white walls. However these walls were tainted with thick crimson letters, words of a story so similar to mine. Aerrow sniffed a lone feather with its tip clogged with more red, and recoiled. I spied a woman that laid upon her stomach with a shining metallic glimmer protruding from her back, and a curious cold sweat of dread trickled down my spine. Radarr clung to my feathers, Aerrow embraced us both and I held my baby in one wing, as we sat in the centre of the room, enveloped by the chill of the bloody mess.

...

With a wink, the cold metal floor returned beneath their feet, and the familiar tinge of crystal dust hung like humidity in the air. Piper shook her head and ran fingers through her hair, feeling the usual light spring of her indigo locks. Indigo. Why were they red like Aerrow's just a second ago?

She saw Radarr and a chicken huddled together, a jumble of fur and feathers, as they regained consciousness. Wedged between the feathery wings was a curious bump, resembling the shape of a crystal. Piper checked her surroundings and found a dead woman beside her. Yes, she was the one protecting the crystal Piper and Radarr wanted to obtain. The Storm Hawk never knew the Protector would sacrifice her life for the safety of one crystal.

Easing the psychedelic twirls of colours from the chicken's wing, Piper plucked out the Hallucination Stone and carefully placed it into her pouch. She dared not to risk its activation. Who knew what power the crystal would hold?

* * *

_A/N: That was the most crazy thing I've ever written. I hope it makes sense one way or another. I'm not sure what I was inspired by, but whatever it was, I swear it must have been an insane piece of something. _

_Just to clear things up:_

_Piper hallucinated she was Aerrow. Aerrow in the hallucination was Radarr's and the Chicken's pet. Aerrow also had a fondness for **PIPING** hot food.  
__Radarr and the Chicken are a couple in the hallucination.  
The egg the chicken supposedly gave birth to was actually the crystal Piper and Radarr wanted to find.  
The fourth- wall author was actually the Protector of said crystal. She was already dead when Piper and Radarr found her.  
The room of white walls, where in the end it's covered in red writing (or blood), is kind of the limbo between the hallucinatory world and the actual real life world of the Atmos._

_Yeah._


End file.
